(To Momma, My Love)

It begins early morning before it is light, with stretches and yawning,

Three fangs of bold white

Loud pounding steps across bare oaken floor, a jump up or down

A pushed open door

Pitters and pats till just the right spot, then a lay all spread out

Or tuck tight in a ball

Right up against me, face filled with a paw, arm over nose

My eyes or my jaw

Oft paw in my hand, or arm holding firm, you’d think we were lovers

As she holds me and purrs

Then it’s urging and sighing and lickidty ticks, fur in my face

Any number of tricks

Till all I can do is surrender, I’m through, the Queen asks my presence

What’s a waif sposed to do

So up in the cold I shuffle about, spitting hairs from my mouth

Or just sneezing them out

In full black of dawn, I step as if blind, seeking the source of

The light I must find

She’s always right there, just inches from feet, paw feet away

From tripping my feet

Once covered in robe, enough sense to walk, we head for the stairs

Together we stalk

Again it’s a dance, sure death at my feet, as she darts in and out

Performing deft feats

Down the steep stairway, with stealth and with dearth, I cling to the wall

For all that, I’m worth

In dim light of dawn, she rushes the steps, headlong abandon

Straight down them she zips

Then turns her head backwards, just to see if I’m there, yawns just a bit,

Impatiently stares

Once into the kitchen, with coffee a brew, it’s time for her breakfast

The queen nods ado

Dad look at my bowl, she sighs with her eyes, hardly a morsel

No, nothing I’d prize

Set on her back haunches she watches and ticks, counting the moments

Till breakfast I fix

So with new metal can or one pulled from the fridge, I scoop a bit out

And wait by the edge

The queen she then strolls right up to her fare, as if nothing at all

Could be less interesting, but air

A sniff and a glance, a peek, testing push, then squiggling, arranging

She positions her tush

Now daintily she tastes, no hurry no rush, her subjects must know

A queen has no haste

When finished and full, not taking too much, no not a queen

She’ll save it for sup

She heads off without, dismissed now I am, as she seeks a spot

To fetter and prim

Then nap time it is or a quick romp out of doors, yet only if outside

Aint wet or chilled to the core

Yet mostly for her, the queen of my den, it’s back up the stairs

Where her real sleep begins

Without all my noises and moving’s about  a queen needs her rest

Without all of my crap

Yet soon I must go, to earn a day’s wage, buy for her food,

Keep set her prim stage

As I leave for the day I know what she’ll yearn, nothing but me

And for me to return

Yet no not a look, nor a wink do I get, no sad goodbyes

Nor sweet kisses lament

But this I don’t mind, for in truth I do know, that there’s nobody else

Her love will she show

No not a soul in the world would, my queen err consent, to lay with or preen,

To snuggle or vent

For when the night comes, and it’s just her and I, I know in my heart

For me would she die

As would I do the same and ever deny, that I err loved another

Or ever would try

© 2011, Tim Wilkinson & Wayne Wilks